


Singularity

by 29Pieces



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Aziraphale to the Rescue (Good Omens), Brave Aziraphale (Good Omens), Bullying, Crowley Whump (Good Omens), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gabriel and Sandalphon are bullies, Gen, Holy Water, Hurt Crowley (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, Non-Graphic Violence, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Psychological Trauma, Rescue, Torture, Whump, Worried Aziraphale (Good Omens), ace safe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:28:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23038615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/29Pieces/pseuds/29Pieces
Summary: Crowley is captured by the angels. No one seems eager to speak up against the torture happening right there in Heaven. No one but Aziraphale. But who’s going to listen to a mere principality? Pre-Apocalypse, a goodly amount of whump, hurt/comfort.
Comments: 54
Kudos: 229
Collections: My faves - Good Omens Whump





	Singularity

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally posted to my Tumblr in 18 small snippets. If you were reading the daily updates over there, here's the full story! If you weren't reading the daily updates over there, here's the full story anyway! 
> 
> Thanks Aini Nufire for being a sporting beta reader and a fantastic writing buddy ^_^ 
> 
> This fic is pre-Apocalypse and probably where canon would diverge if the story continued, because I think if these things had happened then Azi would have acted differently during the Apocalypse situation. It's probably happening before the Antichrist is delivered, but not horribly long before. 
> 
> This came about because I never manage to settle on one single head-canon about whether the boys would be able to magically heal each other or not. In some of my stories, they can, in some they can't, in some they *partially* can but only the more mundane/human wounds, not any injury that was inflicted by magic from the other side. Here's just one more possibility.

**Singularity**

There was no single part of Crowley's body that wasn't on fire. Not like Hellfire—that would actually have been preferable, seeing as he was a demon, one who'd spent a bit of time in Hell, and wasn't much affected by those flames.

No, this was just good, old-fashioned, agonizing pain.

Sandalphon was good at that, the old-fashioned pain. Gabriel wasn't so bad at it himself. But where Crowley had learned Gabriel liked to keep his hands clean, Sandalphon seemed to conversely relish finding himself hands-deep in blood.

Crowley's blood.

"Let's go over this again, 'kay, sunshine?" Gabriel's deceptively cheerful voice said from somewhere up above him as Crowley curled in on himself. A hand gripped his hair, pulling his head up to look into a menacing purple gaze. "I ask the questions, you give the answers. Even a demon like you shouldn't find this too complicated."

"Piss off," Crowley growled. He lowered his eyes though, unwilling to see the disgust and disdain in the group of angels who had gathered around to watch. He wished he still had his dark glasses, the armor he donned when facing the world, his protection against the loathing, fear, and ridicule of anyone who might see his true nature in the snake-ish eyes.

They'd taken those from him, of course. The ripple of hateful murmurs and scathing titters from the audience had filled him with shame.

A fist found its way into his cheek, shattering bone, adding another damp streak of blood across his face.

"Mind your place, _serpent_ ," Sandalphon suggested, wiping bloody knuckles on Crowley's shirt. "Gabriel asked you what you were doing at Aziraphale's headquarters when we caught you. How long have you known about him being stationed on Earth? Were you laying a trap for him?"

"Already told you," Crowley said thickly before spitting out a glob of blood onto Heaven's pristine white floor. "He thwarted me in Cairo last week, of course I had to investigate. Any idea what Beelzebub would do if I discovered an _angel_ roaming the Earth and didn't look into it? First I'd ever seen of him."

He didn't know if they suspected otherwise, couldn't take the chance.

As it was, it was sheer luck Aziraphale hadn't been home when they arrived and found him there. How would they have explained _that_?

The hand clenched in his hair released him and Crowley collapsed back down. His eyes darted back and forth, looking for an escape; in their haste to get answers, Sandalphon and Gabriel hadn't even taken him to any sort of dungeon or even a private room of Heaven.

Instead, and really even worse, they were right out in the middle of the great open room, where everyone could witness the interrogation and comment on how they _thought_ they'd smelled something nasty and evil.

They'd watched as Sandalphon beat him at Gabriel's command, stood by when they'd begun slicing into his body with heavenly swords even though he'd answered their questions (with lies, granted, but they didn't know that.) One or two had seemed unsure about the torture happening right there on Heaven's floor, but not one single angel had said anything about it, and not one seemed to remember that he had once been an angel, too. It didn't matter.

All that mattered was that his wings were black, his eyes were demonic, and he stank of Hell.

"And what did your… investigation… turn up?" Gabriel demanded. "How much did you report back to your masters? You might as well answer, Crawly. If you do, we'll kill you quickly and be done with it. There's no need for all of this."

"It's _Crowley_ -"

" _Crawly_ is a name befitting a snake, and that's all you are. A filthy, disgusting snake. Made to crawl at the feet of your betters, which is, well… everyone."

Murmurs of agreement came from the watching crowd, leaving Crowley's jaw clenching. He didn't care what they said, didn't care what they thought. He _wasn't_ a snake made to crawl at their feet… he wasn't. But Gabriel truly did intend to kill him when this interrogation was done, and most likely it wouldn't be quick at all, and mostly likely it would be holy water or those divine blades of theirs that could kill a demon outright. Then it was curtains, and Crowley wasn't ready to die.

"Alright, listen," he said, pushing himself up to his knees and swatting Sandalphon's hand off of him. "I'll tell you what you want to know…" Crowley hesitated, waiting until Gabriel had leaned in a bit, more focused on what Crowley was about to say than what he was about to do.

Then the demon scrambled to his feet and ran for it. His snake form would have been faster, but they'd blocked all his demonic power when they brought him up here, so he was left to run, and run he did—as fast as his abused and bleeding body could take him.

Which of course wasn't fast enough.

Somewhere behind him came the echoing snap of fingers, and Crowley collapsed to the floor with a muffled shout of surprise. His ankles were bound tightly together by Gabriel's power, wrists fastened behind him. Tape covered his mouth, which was a bad sign, as it meant they didn't want or expect more answers from him. Crowley's heart thudded against his rib cage as he tried in futility to squirm free of the ropes.

"Look at him wriggle," Sandalphon tittered. "Looks more and more like a snake all the time."

"Sandalphon," Gabriel replied, looming into Crowley's field of vision with rage and hilarity in equal measure. "That is _good_. Like a snake! He does look more like a snake like this, doesn't he?" The archangel snapped his fingers again and more rope wound itself around Crowley. It encircled his thighs, cinching them tight, and wrapped his torso so that his arms were pulled in firmly against his sides.

Now he couldn't move any of his limbs even a little, despite his thrashing. He was dead meat. Crowley shouted into the gag when Sandalphon slammed his foot into one of the numerous bleeding gouges in his side. When he tried to roll away, he found himself stopped by Gabriel's foot on the other side and now he was trapped on his stomach.

"Go on, then," Gabriel invited, nudging Crowley with his shoe. "Slither away."

The demon wasn't sure whether the archangel was just taunting him or offering a genuine chance of escape, but no matter how degrading it was he had to at least try. Frantically, Crowley tried to scoot himself closer to the door that would take him back down to Earth, only for the angels to explode in laughter.

Whatever, as long as he could escape. But with his limbs trapped, finding no purchase on the smooth floor, Crowley's progress was humiliatingly slow. Wriggling on his belly on the floor at Gabriel's feet was possibly worse than any single torment in Hell—or all the torments combined—but it was that or death.

And then the water splashed down in front of him and Crowley screamed into the gag as some of the droplets hit his face and sizzled. Holy water. He twisted onto his side so he could look up and saw Sandalphon's grinning face, the angel holding a ewer of the deadly liquid over him.

Eyes widening in horror, Crowley tried to scramble away, again handicapped by his totally immobile limbs.

"Now crawl back to Gabriel," Sandalphon ordered with mirth, tipping the water to splash over Crowley's feet.

The sheer agony of it made the demon long for when it was just their fists hitting him over and over. The bottoms of his jeans quickly eroded away, leaving his feet and ankles to burn under the drops of water until Crowley yanked them away and tried with even more desperation to squirm out of reach—back towards a guffawing Gabriel. He heard the sounds of the laughter on all sides, trying not to care, trying not to wonder how such _righteous_ beings could find such entertainment in this.

The game went on, Sandalphon slowly chasing him with the holy water, herding him this way and that across the floor in the circle of angels. Crowley was about to give in and let the water disintegrate him completely when a different voice suddenly spoke up.

"W-What are you doing? Gabriel, you musn't!"

o.O.o

Aziraphale stood in Heaven, clutching the manila folder containing his most recent report so tightly that it was starting to crumple. He couldn't believe his eyes— _didn't_ believe them, in fact, had to stare at the scene in front of him for a solid ten seconds before it registered that what he thought he was seeing was what he was, in fact, seeing.

Gabriel and Sandalphon paused, the entire gang of angels all turning to look at him in shock. On the ground, Crowley slumped and tried to curl up, bound and severely wounded. How long had they been tormenting him? He looked nearly dead, a fact that filled Aziraphale with desperation and recklessness.

"Excuse me?" Gabriel asked, coming towards Aziraphale and setting a hand on his shoulder. "I musn't… what?"

Aziraphale swallowed. This was dangerous, dangerous territory. "This- this is torture," he pointed out shakily. "I- surely we- I mean, we're the good guys. Wouldn't it be better to cast him out, quickly?"

"Cast him out? Aziraphale… this demon was found _in your shop_. He was onto you. Weren't you supposed to be more careful than that?"

"Well, I-"

"He's evil, Aziraphale."

"Evil must be punished," Sandalphon put in, swirling the ewer of holy water.

"Exactly. Evil must be punished. An example must be set. You understand, don't you, Aziraphale?" Gabriel was grinning with too many teeth and the hand on Aziraphale's shoulder tightened to a painful degree. "The importance of an _example_?"

The threat was all too clear of who the next "example" was going to be if Aziraphale wasn't careful. And while a public flogging might take their attention off the demon for the moment, it wouldn't save him. Crowley was looking at him from the floor now, mouth taped shut but eyes wide with the all too obvious message: " _NO, Aziraphale!"_

But how could he turn around and walk away from such a horrible thing these angels were doing? Had none of them spoken out against this? Or were they all just too afraid of Gabriel?

"Yes, I- I understand," he said. "However, I-"

"If you ever come in here telling me what to do," Gabriel said, lowering his voice to a lethal simmer. "Then we are going to have a problem. Do you want a problem, Aziraphale?"

"No, of course not-"

"Do you think yourself higher than me, to be giving orders?"

"No, I wouldn't dream-"

"Are you an archangel? Or a nuisance, a daft principality we keep on Earth because he doesn't have the wit or wisdom for the bigger happenings up here?"

Aziraphale's stomach twisted and he found Gabriel's purple glare too much for him. His eyes flicked away, towards the other angels watching the exchange. Some of them were starting to grin and nudge each other. Blood rushed to Aziraphale's face. "Well, I mean of course I'm no archangel, but I-"

"Then you're a nuisance?"

"…Well, I-" The grip on his shoulder tightened even further and Aziraphale's legs nearly buckled from the unexpected pain. " _Yes_. Ah, y-yes, I'm… a nuisance," he whispered.

"That's what I thought," Gabriel snapped. "So why don't you flit on back to your bookshop and let us take care of the snake. He won't be bothering you ever again."

"You're going to…"

"Kill him, obviously." Gabriel paused then cocked his head. "That's… not a _problem_ , is it, Aziraphale?"

They were all staring at him now; Aziraphale laughed awkwardly and tried to take a step back from Gabriel, but the archangel's hand was too heavy. "I mean, of- of course not," he lied, though his heart rent in two to not only utter the fallacy, but to do so within Crowley's hearing. Surely the demon knew he didn't mean it, that he only needed to play along long enough to find a way to help, that he would never stand by and tolerate the things these angels were doing. He couldn't comprehend why no one had put a stop to this; was it because Crowley was "just" a demon? But- but he had once been an angel, the same as all of them, and even as a demon it wasn't like he was actually _evil_ , only rather naughty.

But Crowley at his naughtiest would never do something like what was happening here, and it was wrong.

"Good," was all Gabriel said, releasing Aziraphale and yanking the folder out of his white-knuckled hands. "Then get going."

Aziraphale nodded frantically, backing away, trying to catch Crowley's gaze once again, but the demon was lying motionless with eyes closed. With nothing else to do, the angel turned and scampered away as quickly as he could.

"Alright then," he heard Gabriel speak up from behind him. "Who wants to see how fast the snake can slither?"

Oh this couldn't be happening, it just couldn't be… they were going to kill him and Aziraphale couldn't fight off the archangels _and_ the spectators and come out alive, and even if he did then he would be cast out and they would be unprotected, but Crowley was going to _die_! Aziraphale _had_ to put a stop to this, but even if he went to Michael, she wouldn't be likely to care enough about a demon to rein Gabriel in.

There was only one thing he could think of, and it was probably the worst idea he'd ever had, but it was that or lose Crowley forever. Aziraphale rushed through Heaven, not back down to Earth but through the white halls deeper and deeper into the very heart of the place, meeting fewer and fewer angels until it was just him and a gradually shrinking corridor. Finally, it ended at a single door at the end of the hall.

Aziraphale paused at the door. His breath was ragged from the frenzied pace he'd set as well as the fear of not only what he'd seen but what he was about to do.

Angels did not walk through this door. They just didn't. Gabriel might, or Michael sometimes, to confer and to receive orders and to have discussions about Important Things that Aziraphale was not a part of. He was just a principality and had no business even thinking he could waltz in, like a beggar approaching a queen, like he had the right.

Aziraphale swallowed, cleared his throat, adjusted his bow tie, and still didn't feel brave enough to open the door. He put a hand to the warm metal knob and pushed his way in nevertheless.

The inside of this sacred heart of Heaven was, to his surprise, not at all like the hallways. A garden, as lush as Eden had been, filled the immense space, and a soft breeze brushed across his face. In spite of his hurry and fear, Aziraphale couldn't help but gape awestruck at his surroundings. His heart twisted with the unexpected sadness that he would, in due course, have to step back outside the door.

If he made it that far.

Clearing his throat again, Aziraphale nervously called, "H-hello? Um… is… anyone here? Hello?"

No answer but some light singing of crickets and a snatch of birdsong. Aziraphale brushed aside the leafy branches of a tree, making his way deeper into the little garden. Ahead, he spied an altar and hurried towards it. There, he stopped to take another breath.

Most likely, She wasn't even going to answer one as lowly as a principality, but he was already here and he had to try.

"Ahem," he coughed, closing his eyes and hoping. "Er… hello? I- I'm trying to reach… well… God. Are- are you there?"

_HELLO, AZIRAPHALE._

Shocked to have actually received an answer, Aziraphale jumped with a tiny squeak. "Oh! Oh, ah… dear me, I didn't think- oh, um, hello."

_WHY HAVE YOU COME HERE, PRINCIPALITY?_

"I, um… seek an audience. I must report- well, you see, the thing of it is, there's a demon. Here, in Heaven. And, and, I just wonder, in your, um… wisdom, you have already cast all the demons out of Heaven, and- would it not be best, perhaps, to, ah… cast him out again now?"

_THE DEMON, CRAWLY?_

"Crowley," Aziraphale automatically corrected before his eyes widened in horror. "Oh, but, I mean, not that I would ever correct _you,_ it's just, well, he- he goes by Crowley now. I hear. We haven't spoken. But I overheard once."

The sound surrounding him now could only be described as a soft, echoing chuckle, which was more than a little terrifying. Aziraphale suddenly had the horrible notion that God had already known Crowley had changed his name but wondered what Aziraphale would say about it, and that She might well know he was lying about not speaking to the demon…

_I BELIEVE GABRIEL ALREADY HAS HIM IN HAND._

"Ah, yes, erm… well, you see, that's the problem. Gabriel- now of course, he's much wiser than me and surely knows what he's doing, but I can't help but think perhaps, um… well, torture, might- might not be the most… angelic course of action?"

_YOU WISH TO SHOW HIM KINDNESS, AZIRAPHALE? MERCY, PERHAPS? TO A DEMON?_

Was this a trap, Aziraphale wondered frantically? How did he answer?

_A BOLD REQUEST, I MUST SAY. YOU BELIEVE GABRIEL TO BE WRONG, AND YOU TO BE RIGHT?_

"Oh, never!" Aziraphale gasped. "Well, that is to say… no, Gabriel is most wise. And of course, I'm nothing but a principality, a nuisance, really. Actually really quite daft when it comes down to it. No wit nor wisdom, as they say, or I suppose 'they' don't really say, but… oh, help."

_THESE ARE MOST UNGRACIOUS SENTIMENTS, PRINCIPALITY AZIRAPHALE. I WONDER, WAS IT THE DEMON CROWLEY WHO SAID SUCH THINGS TO YOU?_

"Crowley would never!" The shocked exclamation slipped out before Aziraphale could stop it and he desperately tried to backtrack. "That is, er, he never has, because of course we aren't on speaking terms. He's a demon after all and I would never consort or fraternize with such a being."

_WHY IS THAT?_

Erm… Aziraphale's mouth opened and closed a few times as he sought for an appropriate response before settling on, "Because demons are… evil? Really very wily."

_IF HE HAS DONE EVIL, SHOULD HE NOT BE PUNISHED?_

"Yes, but my Lord, they're going to kill him!" Aziraphale cried, sinking to his knees and feeling the first terrified tears starting to prick at the corners of his eyes. "They- they'll kill him, but not before torturing him first. It's cruel, what they're doing to him, _humiliating_. I- I don't know this, um, Crowley fellow, but surely this _can't_ be right! My Lord, please, I _beg_ of you, spare him!"

_YOU DON'T KNOW THIS CROWLEY FELLOW?_

"…Er, no."

_BUT YOU'RE PLEADING FOR HIS LIFE?_

"…Yes?"

_YET YOU AGREE WHERE THERE IS EVIL, THERE MUST BE PUNISHMENT. IF YOU ARE SO VERY BOTHERED THAT THEY'RE PUNISHING HIM, PERHAPS YOU WOULD PREFER TO BE PUNISHED YOURSELF?_

Oh, blast it, Aziraphale really did not like this idea either… but on the other hand, as heavy as Sandalphon could wield the whip, Gabriel wouldn't want to actually discorporate him, not when Gabriel himself would then be stuck dealing with the resulting paperwork. He would probably order Sandalphon to be sure _not_ to kill him, so that was something. Aziraphale unconsciously rubbed his wrists, feeling his back prickle to imagine the fall of the whip, and his heart grew heavy. But if it saved Crowley then it was worth it.

"And… Crowley- er, the demon, who I most definitely don't know, would be sent back to Earth? Alive?"

_THAT IS CORRECT._

Aziraphale squared his shoulders. "Then y-yes, Lord. Thank you, Lord. Very understanding of you, I shall report to Gabriel immediately for correction-"

_GABRIEL WILL NOT BE DEALING OUT YOUR PUNISHMENT. I SHALL DO THAT MYSELF._

Somewhere, another door opened and footsteps could be heard approaching. Aziraphale ducked his head against the blinding light, pressing his forehead into his arms on the ground, praying he didn't go blind and quaking with fear.

Punished by God Herself… Perhaps Gabriel was heavy-handed, but God was powerful enough that She could destroy him with a single blow and make a new angel to replace him. Aziraphale couldn't imagine the depth of pain he was probably going to feel, with only merciful oblivion at the end to look forward to… And he wouldn't be able to say good-bye to Crowley, but the demon would live and maybe forgive him someday, and now Aziraphale really was weeping in earnest.

 _SOMETHING FITTING,_ God went on, footsteps drawing ever nearer. _SOMETHING ONE SUCH AS YOURSELF DESERVES._

"Y-yes, Lord," Aziraphale all but sobbed wretchedly. "If- if I may, Lord, if I'm to be discorporated or killed, I- I wonder if I could ask for just one final favor. You see, I've nothing to lose now, so maybe- maybe in your mercy you might- might see fit to just… clean him up a bit before sending him back, he really did look simply awful, you see. At least enough he won't discorporate from the wounds."

The footsteps stopped.

_YOU'RE NOT TO BE DISCORPORATED OR KILLED. ANGEL AZIRAPHALE, I WONDER, WHAT PRECISELY DO YOU THINK YOUR PUNISHMENT IS GOING TO BE?_

"Oh," Aziraphale said to the ground beneath him, not daring to raise his head. "Ah, well… a flogging, isn't it? In- in the presence of the angels, as a… as an example."

… _I REALLY MUST HAVE A WORD WITH GABRIEL ONE OF THESE DAYS. NO, AZIRAPHALE. I AM NOT GOING TO FLOG YOU._

"…You're not?"

_NO. AND YES, THE DEMON CROWLEY WILL BE SEEN TO, BUT NOT BY ME. YOU WILL DO THAT YOURSELF._

"I will?"

_IT IS A MOST DIFFICULT THING, TO BE AS SINGULAR AS YOU ARE, PRINCIPALITY AZIRAPHALE. YOUR PUNISHMENT IS TO TAKE ON THE BURDEN OF BECOMING EVEN FARTHER REMOVED FROM THE OTHER ANGELS._

"Removed? I- I'm to fall, then? You're casting me out?" he couldn't help but cry with an even fiercer clenching of his dejected heart.

_NO, AZIRAPHALE. YOU ARE NOT TO BE CAST OUT. YOU ARE SIMPLY GOING TO BE… EVEN MORE SINGULAR. YOU WILL HAVE THE UNIQUE ABILITY TO HEAL DEMONS LIKE CROWLEY. IT WILL BE YOUR CHARGE AND YOUR BURDEN TO HAVE TO TAKE CARE OF HIM UNTIL HE IS BACK ON HIS FEET. THIS, UM… PUNISHMENT… IS NO MORE THAN YOU DESERVE. DO YOU NOT AGREE?_

Aziraphale tried to process this, not sure if he could possibly be understanding this correctly. "I… I'll be able to heal him? Even though they've used holy water? And angel swords?"

_CORRECT. WELL?_

"…Oh! Ah, right! Right, that is, erm, punishment indeed. A heavy burden. I'm sorry, I'll actually be able to _heal_ him? A demon? Without falling myself?"

_A TERRIBLE COST OF DARING TO PLEAD FOR MERCY TO THE ALMIGHTY ON HIS BEHALF._

"Oh, terrible! Terrible indeed."

_SO TERRIBLE THAT IT MIGHT BE BEST NOT TO MENTION IT TO GABRIEL. HE WOULD BE… UM… GRIEVED… TO KNOW WHAT HAS BEEN DONE TO YOU._

"Grieved. Yes."

Aziraphale could hardly believe this was even real. Was he under some sort of enchantment, perhaps, made to believe what he hadn't dared actually hope for was… happening? Crowley would be spared, _and_ he would have the means to help his friend in the future… it couldn't possibly be real.

_IT IS REAL, PRINCIPALITY._

Aziraphale jumped at the unexpected answer, horror following immediately after as he wondered just how much of his thoughts the Almighty could hear.

… _ALL OF IT, AZIRAPHALE. I'M GOD. I HEAR ALL OF IT._

"Oh, Heaven preserve me!" the angel cried out as he realized in terror that God would therefore know that he had-

_LIED, YES. MORE THAN ONCE NOW._

A hand fell on Aziraphale's head and he automatically flinched with a short cry of fear at the coming retribution for such a heinous act unbefitting an angel. But the hand wasn't heavy or punishing, rather he felt flooded with sudden warmth and light and… love. Unable to stop himself, Aziraphale choked on another sob as he leaned into the touch.

The same low chuckle as before rumbled around him.

_AND I MUST SAY, YOU AREN'T AT ALL VERY GOOD AT IT. YOU REALLY ARE PERHAPS THE MOST UNUSUAL OF ALL MY CREATIONS. I LIKE YOU._

The hand disappeared and footsteps retreated. _GABRIEL HAS BEEN INSTRUCTED TO SEND CROWLEY BACK DOWN TO EARTH. WITHOUT DISCORPORATING HIM. YOU HAD BEST HURRY, YOU'LL WANT TO GET HIM INSIDE WHERE IT'S SAFE AND WARM. UNTIL NEXT TIME, GUARDIAN OF THE EASTERN GATE._

"Right, yes. Ah… th-thank you!" As if in a dream, Aziraphale lifted his head, but the light was gone and the garden was silent but for the crickets and birds and wind through the trees. He scrambled to his feet. Could this truly be happening? The angel stared at his hands in awe, wondering at the very thought of being able to heal a demon from wounds inflicted by an _archangel._ But there was no time to waste in pondering this mystery; he needed to hurry. Aziraphale swiftly strode back towards the door and out into Heaven.

Not daring to use the main entrance in case he ran into Gabriel there, Aziraphale made his way quickly to a staircase in an older corner, unused for the most part and thankfully empty. He took the stairs two at a time, counting the number of floors carefully so that when he pushed through the door on the landing, he emerged onto a busy corner of London. No one took any notice nor did any eyes track him as Aziraphale raced around the block to the front of the building.

The angels had already deposited Crowley outside onto the pavement, exactly as he had been—still tied up and bloody, for which Aziraphale felt a surge of ire. At least they'd seen to it that no passersby would note him, vulnerable as he was, since Crowley looked in no shape to be using any power to hide himself.

"Crowley," he breathed, hurrying over to his friend and kneeling beside him. "Hurry, my dear, we have to get out of here. Hold on, I'll have you untied in a jiffy…" The ropes were too tight and his hands too shaky, so Aziraphale miracled Crowley free with a snap of his fingers. No one was watching from the building, to his relief; Aziraphale hauled Crowley to his feet but really he was taking all of the demon's weight, as Crowley seemed unable to stand. He was barely conscious, the poor thing, and such a burned and bloody mess.

"This won't do," Aziraphale murmured, casting his eyes around, anxiously searching for the Bentley. But no, Gabriel had said they'd caught Crowley at the bookshop, so there was no transportation here waiting. Aziraphale settled for using another tiny miracle to bring a cab right to them instead.

"Hey, your buddy there okay?" the driver asked worriedly.

"'Zira…" Crowley murmured, head lolling in semi-consciousness. His eyes fluttered open and the cab driver jolted back.

"Whoa! What's wrong with his _eyes_?"

"Absolutely nothing!" Aziraphale spat out with frank vitriol. He snapped his fingers and added, "I'm the only one here, at any rate."

The driver nodded, eyes glazing. "Only one."

"Just drive, I shall tell you where to go."

Crowley had passed out on his shoulder, and the angel had his work cut out for him trying to find a way to prop him up in a way that didn't brush against any burn marks from the holy water splashes or the slices from what must have been Sandalphon's sword. It was a mercy the demon had fallen unconscious; Aziraphale wanted to heal him right then and there but prudence warned him to get back to the safety of his shop first. Couldn't be too careful. And, to be honest, the angel was really rather shaken still by everything that had happened and needed to collect himself while Crowley slept.

He had _spoken_ to _God_ , and She knew… everything. Of course She did. How could he have been so stupid as to think they were _really_ so careful and clever that God Herself wouldn't know? Gabriel, they could put one past. Beelzebub would never suspect. But God? She would have known from back in the beginning, everything that had happened from their very first meeting in the garden.

And yet instead of casting him aside, She'd rewarded—er, punished—him with the ability to heal his friend. Said She _liked_ them. Was it possible this guilty secret of theirs was… perhaps not all that bad?

"Here we are, then," he told the driver as they pulled up to the bookshop at last. Aziraphale dug in his pocket for some money and then heaved Crowley up over his shoulder to carry inside.

Safely indoors, the angel laid Crowley gently out on the couch just in time for the demon to wake up with a jolt and a strangled cry.

"Crowley! Crowley, dear, it's me! No, you're safe, they're gone, they're all gone."

Crowley was nearly hyperventilating, scrambling back on the sofa like he would go right over the top, but of course his body quickly remembered that he was in no shape to do so, and he collapsed back down onto the couch.

"'Ziraphlll," he slurred, either because he was so out of it or because the holy water had splashed too close to his mouth and throat for him to speak properly any longer. A surge of rare anger coursed through the angel as he finally had a chance to see the extent of the damage done.

Burns that went all the way down to stark white bone peppered Crowley's face from the back-splashes of holy water. Blood smeared one mottled cheek and crusted in a line from his nose to his chin; his clothes were tattered from being sliced by swords or burned, ankles and feet an inflamed and reddened mess, but his eyes hurt Aziraphale the most, for the emotion they revealed. The angels hadn't just beaten Crowley, they'd terrorized him.

"Shh," Aziraphale shushed. "It's alright. I'm going to help you."

"Hel' me," Crowley whispered, sounding nothing at all like the sauntering demon Aziraphale knew. "'Ziraphl, hel' me. Need… discrpate."

"Discorporate?"

"Mm. I die…now… be _dead_ dead. Hol' wa'er. Need to… discorp'rate first, hum'n way. Hel' me… gun, knife, pois'n, don' care…"

Aziraphale's eyes went wide as he realized what Crowley was asking for. Dying from holy water would kill him outright, but losing the body to human means would discorporate him back to Hell first, a do-over as it were. But they might well demote him for that, and a demotion in Hell… no, that was no good either. Aziraphale shook his head, patting the demon's arm as gently as he could. "No, dear, it's alright," he murmured. "I'm not going to help you discorporate. I'm going to heal you."

Crowley's eyes flooded with tears, either from pain or emotion or both, and he shook his head. "Can't. 'M jus' a d'mon." He squeezed his eyes shut and the tears leaked out the corners. "Sn'ke."

Aziraphale could listen to no more of this nonsense, quickly snapping his fingers. Nothing happened, and for a second he almost felt betrayed, but it was _God_ who had said he could do this, and it _had_ to be real, he just needed to figure out how… Aziraphale thought back, but there hadn't been any special instructions. He should be able to heal Crowley like he would anyone- oh! But of course.

"I wouldn't heal a human with some unfeeling snap of the fingers," he murmured out loud, leaning in closer to Crowley and cupping his cheek. "It requires a little more… hands on."

The angel closed his eyes, tapping into the burning well of power that swirled throughout his being. He took a thread of that shining light, imagining it flooding down his arm and out his open palm. There was no resistance to his power that he might have otherwise expected; the evil in a demon should have rejected the holiness in him, but instead Crowley gasped in shock and Aziraphale felt the blood clearing away. He opened his eyes and pulled his hand back in time to see the horrible burn marks filling back in with fresh skin, smoothing away.

"Thank you," Aziraphale whispered, in case She was listening. Determined, he moved his hands down to Crowley's wrists, shredded by his terrified struggles.

"…How?"

"I didn't know what else to do," Aziraphale said with a shudder, filling Crowley in on everything that had happened, and all that had been said and promised. Crowley was silent, either because it hurt too much to talk through his burned mouth, or maybe because he was as stunned as Aziraphale was himself.

"You… off'rd t' take… my place?" the demon finally asked, then looked away. "Y'thought it meant dy'n' but you still a'reed to it?"

"You've risked yourself for me before," Aziraphale pointed out. He set a gentle hand over Crowley's mouth, erasing the burns there so that he could talk properly again. The demon still wasn't looking at him.

"Where are my glasses?" was all Crowley said once the hand was pulled away.

"You know you don't need those here-"

"Aziraphale!" Crowley barked, sharper than he normally spoke to the angel.

Right, they made him less vulnerable, and even if it was only Aziraphale there with him, he would surely feel better if he could hide his eyes, after the way Gabriel and the others had treated him. The angel quickly cast about to see if Crowley had left a pair behind before settling for miracling a set for him instead. The demon took the glasses with shaky hands and pulled them onto his face, silent.

Aziraphale watched his friend, feeling helpless, but not as helpless as Crowley himself must have felt through the ordeal. Moving slowly and carefully, the angel slid off the couch to kneel on the floor instead, the better to reach Crowley's wrecked feet _and_ to not be looming over the demon in any way. Putting Crowley at the higher height. Putting himself below the demon.

"What they did," he began quietly. "It was wrong. Someone should have stepped in before I arrived."

"Why? 'M just a _demon_. Why did you risk it? What if they _had_ punished you, huh? What's the sense in trading someone good like you for a monster like me? Why- why, angel?"

"Crowley," Aziraphale sighed. He closed his eyes, taking Crowley's foot and ankle in his hands to let the miraculous healing seep in. He took a breath. "You're not a monster. And you're not like other demons. You're not evil."

Crowley ripped off his glasses, sitting upright with a snarl to grab Aziraphale's coat. " _Look_ at me!" he shouted, snake eyes contracted into thin black slits. "I'm a _demon_ , a _snake_! _THE_ snake! I _am_ evil, look at my eyes!"

"I am," Aziraphale replied calmly, unaffected. He covered Crowley's hand with his own, not letting go. "And that's how I know. Crowley, I… I remember the war. In Heaven. I remember what those demons did to angels they defeated. I saw _evil_. And you?" He shook his head. "My dear boy, you aren't a bit like them. You're… different. Singular. Do you know, it took all of two seconds in the garden to see it. How different you were."

"Lying is a sin, angel."

"Quite, but I'm not lying." Aziraphale switched his free hand up to cup Crowley's cheek again, working on the burns on that side but not losing eye contact. "I could see it. And do you know how? It was your eyes, my dear. Which, by the by, are really quite lovely. I love all God's creatures, great and small, which includes serpents. But that's neither here nor there, what I saw was emotion. Feeling. The things they told us demons didn't have, _couldn't_ have. But there it was, not covered or hidden, there for all to see, and I knew. I could see it in your eyes."

Crowley didn't seem to have anything to say to that, staring down at Aziraphale, but the tense lines of his face did smooth out. He finally leaned back, releasing his grip on the angel; he also put his glasses back on, though.

"And do you know," Aziraphale continued, placing a hand against the gash in Crowley's side and starting to erase the damage done. "I- I've been having a thought."

"Another one?" Crowley asked without the sharpness from before.

A nervous laugh bubbled up from Aziraphale's throat and he finally looked away. "I- I suppose I _do_ try that far too much for my own good. Ignore me, my dear, I was just being a bit d-"

"Are you going to say 'daft'?" Crowley interrupted, tilting his head to examine the angel—who didn't answer. "Because if you are, I _will_ fight you. I don't care what condition I'm in. That's not what I meant and you know it."

"Well- that is… my dear boy, it's just that Gabriel wasn't _entirely_ wrong, I suppose I must be a bit of a nu-"

" _Ssstop… ssssaying_ _t_ hat!"

Oh dear, he must really be upset to have started hissing again. Aziraphale swallowed and looked down at his hands. "They mean well," he tried, a bit uncertainly. "I mean, not what they did to you. I shan't forgive them for that. But- but you musn't think too harshly of them for what Gabriel said about me-"

"No, don't tell me what I _musn't_ do. I'd kill him right now if I could, and not for _my_ sake. Is that how he always talks to you?"

"Of course not!" Aziraphale exclaimed, switching to a sword cut across Crowley's chest. "Only if I'm making a pest of myself. Which… now that I think of it, is quite a lot of the time. I don't mean to, but I- I can't seem to help it."

"Making a pest- Aziraphale! No. No, you know what, no, I'm not having it. Now listen, you're the smartest, cleverest angel I know. And if you've been having a thought, I want to hear what it is, because it's bound to be a good one."

The sentiment brought a small smile back to the angel's face and he ducked his head. "Oh, well… it's just that… I've been thinking about what God said. And She undeniably gave me a gift, but do you know, I'm starting to wonder if it's precisely what I thought it was?"

Crowley looked pointedly down at his repaired limbs and back up again. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I thought She gave me an actual new healing ability. But then I thought… why _can't_ angels heal demons?"

"Because demons can't be saved," Crowley immediately replied, face tightening again. "It's in the job description."

"I mean more specifically, dear boy. It's the evil, isn't it? Evil rejects our light and righteousness, turns it away. But… but, Crowley… if you aren't truly evil, if you're really just a bit bad… perhaps it's working because of _you,_ and not because of me at all. You… you've never rejected me. Neither does your nature, perhaps."

Aziraphale peeped almost shyly back up at the demon, who was staring at him with mouth slightly open. The angel lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. "Well, it makes sense, doesn't it? She did give me a gift, I think, but it wasn't the ability to heal you. It was what I told Her I didn't have." Aziraphale exhaled a soft laugh and the corner of his lip curled into a smile. "The wit and wisdom. To understand that I already could, you see."

"I think you're reaching, angel. You're the one who's different from the others. You remember back to the war, do you? Well I remember back to thirty minutes ago. You were the only one who stood up to those bastards. You were the only one who's dared walk into God's _personal garden_. You offered to die to save a demon you aren't even supposed to be talking to. You're not like them. And… I- I just…" Crowley looked down. "You're the one who earned a gift, not me. So… you know… thanks, or- or whatever."

Well, Aziraphale didn't know about all that. Who knew which it was, aside from God Herself, who wasn't all that big on explaining things. For now, he would accept the fact that he _could_ heal Crowley, that the Almighty knew they were friends but hadn't given any indication that he ought to put a stop to that, and quickly. For now, Aziraphale was going to let it go, wrap a warm, comforting blanket around his friend, and protect him until he felt ready to get back to being a demon.

And when Crowley took off his glasses without even thinking about it, putting them down on the table as he normally did in here, Aziraphale only smiled and watched those lovely, golden eyes.

o.O.o

"Not that I'm complaining, of course, my Lord," Gabriel said with a clenched smile. "But, ah… why exactly did you decide you needed… horses… in here?"

_I LIKE THEM._

"Yes, and, may I say, what a… _majestic_ creature!" Gabriel nudged Sandalphon, who nodded and grimaced.

"Majestic."

"But, ah, the question is, is there no way you could… make them to where they didn't… do… well, _this_?"

The archangel raised his shovel as evidence, filled with the foul-smelling _stuff_ that seemed to keep coming out of the back end of the horse. He didn't know what it was and he didn't want to. Clearly it couldn't stay where it was, but shoveling it all out of the garden was… well… perhaps a bit beneath him?

_YES. THERE IS MOST CERTAINLY A WAY I COULD MAKE THEM NOT DO THAT._

Gabriel nodded, waiting… but She didn't say anything else. His shoulders sagged. His suit was covered in this stuff, he thought he'd stepped in a bit of it, he stank, and he was thoroughly humiliated. He couldn't be seen—or smelled—like this, he had a meeting soon, and his attempts to miracle himself clean _weren't working_!

"May- may I ask if there's not… maybe some… you know… _other_ angel who could take care of this? A dominion, maybe, or a principality?"

_THERE ARE MANY ANGELS WHO COULD TAKE CARE OF IT. BUT TO BE IN MY GARDEN IS SUCH A HIGH HONOR. RESERVED FOR VERY HIGH ANGELS. ARE YOU NOT THE HIGHEST OF THEM ALL? SO VERY FAR ABOVE ANYONE ELSE? RATHER HIGH AND MIGHTY- ER, THAT IS, OF THE HIGHEST RANK OF ANGEL?_

With reason no longer working, Gabriel switched to whining. "Can't Michael do this?"

_SHE IS VERY BUSY._

"Uriel?"

_TRAINING THE TROOPS._

"Literally _anyone_ else."

_NO._

Sandalphon muttered something un-angelic under his breath and continued shoveling the steaming brown mess.

That settled, God turned Her attention back to the young principality and the serpent demon down on Earth. Crowley had been healed, wrapped in a quilt, and given a mug of cocoa. God listened to the debate over how things had worked, and who was the special one between the two. They each seemed to think it was the other who was most worthy.

Had She given Aziraphale a gift of healing? Or perhaps just wisdom and faith to do what could already be done?

Was Crowley receiving the benefit of having such an extraordinary friend? Or perhaps he was the singular one, a demon who maybe wasn't quite so evil after all?

Was it a bit of both? God wasn't likely to tell them either way.

She smiled, watching the two. A singular pair indeed.


End file.
